


Take Violent Things & Make Them Kind

by Massiel



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Flash Fic, Gen, No obvious romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8182499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Massiel/pseuds/Massiel
Summary: I guess space, and time,takes violent things, angry thingsand makes them kind.-- "Sun," Sleeping At Last
The Trade Federation's successful invasion of Naboo has rapidly transformed the once lushly green planet to a wasteland. The former queen is now an Imperator, a figurehead to keep order on Naboo for the Federation. But Amidala was not chosen to lead for nothing. With the help of her handmaidens, she will lead Naboo to freedom and restore the planet to a green place.





	1. Invasion

**Author's Note:**

> The very first (and only time) I watched Mad Max: Fury Road, I couldn't stop seeing Star Wars parallels. All too quickly, I realized that the title of Imperator Amidala sounded pretty badass. Then I realized what it would probably mean in the Star Wars universe. After that, pretty much everything clicked into place...

It happens in broad daylight. Thousands of battle droids march into Theed, down the main avenue, toward her palace. She watches from the window for a moment, then bows her head. Light streams in, filling the chamber, and illuminating her like an Iegoan angel.

Then she looks up, glaring defiantly into the brilliant morning rays. She is Padmé Amidala, queen of the Naboo, and she will not suffer the Trade Federation’s presence on her planet.

Her right hand, her confidante, glides up next to her.

“Your Highness,” says Sabé quietly. “What are we to do?”

The queen turns to her handmaiden and measures her with a glance. The girl beside her—for they are girls, young and naive, from a peaceful planet unaccustomed to the ways of aggression—is as yet untested. As is she. She had appeared before the senate not more than a month before, urging them to force the Trade Federation to cease and desist with their rampage through the galaxy. It appeared negotiations had failed her. She’d had faith in democracy, in the Republic. For the moment, both have failed her, but she will not fail her people.

“We will resist,” Padmé says, turning away from the sight of encroaching metal below her. She sweeps out of the hall, the fur-trimmed edge of her red gown making soft noises as it brushes against the marble floor with every step. “However we can, for as long as we can.”

“Very good, my queen,” replies Sabé, five paces behind her.

Padmé turns abruptly and faces her. The movement is so quick Sabé cannot help stumbling forward into the queen, who grips her arms to steady her. “It’s me, Sabé,” she says. “Right now, it’s just me.”

Silent, eyes wide, her handmaiden—her best friend—nods. Padmé is again reminded of how young they are. Innocent still, despite their roles. She fears that will not be the case much longer, but she has to know if Sabé will stay.

“Will you fight with me?” she asks hesitantly.

Her closest friend in the galaxy does not hesitate for even a moment before responding. “I’ll stay with you till the end, if it comes to that,” she vows. “We all will.”

The two girls look into each others’ eyes, and for an instant, everything else grinds to a halt. Padmé can no longer hear the droning hum of engines outside or the frantic activity occurring floors below her. For a moment she feels childish, for the first time in a long time, that they’ve made a pact to stay together. But this is different than the sisterhood she and the others share. This is for liberty. This is for survival.

Padmé reaches out her hand, absentmindedly noticing that her white nail polish is chipped—stop, she chides herself, there are more pressing matters—and Sabé takes it. A united front, they return together to the queen’s quarters, where her handmaidens will prepare her for the confrontation ahead.


	2. Titles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé gets called Imperator instead of Queen now. But there are other titles she doesn't feel she deserves anymore.

They call her Imperator now. Imperator Amidala, the Trade Federation’s planetary governor of Naboo. Padmé does not miss being called Queen and Your Highness, in a way. Her handmaidens, who she was permitted to keep—who she would have kept anyway, whatever the punishment—still call her these things. They do it in hushed tones for fear of being overheard, giving the titles a reverence more appropriate for a goddess in a temple than a girl in a chair. Padmé does not miss being called Queen so much as she abhors it. 

Sabé is the only one who refrains, because she knows that Padmé believes she does not deserve these honors any longer. The newly-christened Imperator thanks the Force for her best friend every day, for all her handmaidens. They are the ones who keep her strong, remind her of her purpose, manage to make her smile on her best days.

She has failed her planet, she thinks on her darkest days, as she sits in her former throne room, executing the commands of and making decisions on behalf of the Trade Federation. She should not have done this, she should have fought harder, even if it ended in her death—

But then Sabé reminds her that she did this for her planet, she would have been no good to them dead, and being alive is revenge enough for now.

Padmé avoids thinking of the word “revenge” when she considers her options for saving Naboo. Avenger is not a title she thinks she would be capable of bearing for the rest of her life. She desires peace, not more pain. 

She touches her cheeks and then her lips with her fingertips, ghosting over the places where the bright red makeup would have colored her face. Where the scar of remembrance should have been, the line that split the lip of all the queens of Naboo, lest they forget the Time of Suffering. A time that has come again.

This is why she accepted the cage the Trade Federation offered. Her freedom for the freedom of her people. They cannot live as they did before, but Padmé does her best to ensure that their lives can retain at least a semblance of normalcy. She bends the rigid regulations of the Federation where she can without drawing undue attention and ire onto the people living under them. 

Through weeks, then months, of occupation, she does what she can to merit the office to which the Naboo elected her. Determined to keep her planet alive, having faith that if history is to repeat itself, peace will reign again. And so will she.

Padmé Amidala is Imperator now, but not forever.


	3. Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The resistance grows without her direct involvement, but on a mission to negotiate the extradition of fugitives in Ferentina, a city located on a mountain pass that has been blockaded, Padmé loses her arm in an explosion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for broken bones/loss of limb/amputation.

Months into the occupation, Padmé is gratified that despite the warnings, the people of Naboo continue to persist and resist. She receives word daily from Federation envoys and her own spies that not only are there rumblings of discontent, concerted efforts are being made to thwart Federation rule.

Once she spoke dismissively of aggression and war. She may work from inside the system at the moment, but she senses the time approaches when she will need to take up arms to liberate Naboo.

And the opportunity arises. Padmé learns that Ferentina, a town on the banks of the Andrevea River and near a mountain pass, a fair distance from Theed, has been blockaded by Federation forces. The townspeople are hosting fugitives who attacked Federation ships, and as a result they are all being punished. The blockade is an attempt to starve them out. In retaliation for harboring fugitives wanted for attacking Federation ships, the town has been blockaded in an attempt to starve the people out, force them to give up the criminals.

Or so an envoy explains to her. Padmé calls them heroes, all of them.

And so she offers to travel to Ferentina and negotiate. She can speak reason to these people, she assures the Federation. They know her. They will listen.

Miraculously, the Federation also listens. They send her to the town, accompanied by an escort and, thankfully, her handmaidens. 

What is most important, though, is what they are able to carry with them: supplies and food and medicine, concealed from their handlers. As they are only battle droids, it is done easily enough.

For three days, Padmé and Sabé and the other handmaidens work side by side with self-appointed leaders of the resistance in Ferentina, returning to the droids at night. They work to spread necessities and care to those who lack it, but also to find a way to end the blockade. The Federation expects her to return soon, fugitives in tow, but Padmé has no such plans. 

Eventually they come to the solution of a staged attack. Padmé and her handmaidens will bring the battle droids into the town, a few townspeople will make their blaster shots go wide. Once the droids are engaged, they can peel away and fight on the right side—and back in Theed, she will tell a different version of the story.

Night falls and passes, and in the falsely warm dawn light, she leads her escort of battle droids into Ferentina. She does not see how it begins, but blaster shots are fired, and then they are caught in a conflagration of conflict, a blaze lit by the sun. Pulling her own blaster from beneath her battle dress, Padmé joins the fray. Unless the droids are destroyed, the plan will fail.

Up ahead, she catches sight of stealthy movement and a flare of light she might have imagined. There is less than a second to think, to move, to act, but there is Sabé and a cluster of battle droids and she dashes forward with both arms outstretched, one warding off and one protecting.  

She reaches Sabé and pushes her out of the way just before a building explodes, propelling debris in all directions. Padmé is thrown back, landing hard among rubble, more falling on top of her. Something large crushes her arm. She feels the bone break and screams, her voice lost among the chaos of the battle, and blacks out from the pain.

When she regains consciousness, she scrambles upright, her body acting as if she is still in the middle of the fight in Ferentina. The motion alerts her to the fact that something is drastically different. Dreading what she will see, she turns to look at her left arm and finds that the one she remembers is no longer there, has been replaced with an artificial one.

The material, white and smooth and strong, seems familiar, and it is not until a droid comes in to check on her that she realizes it belongs to one of them. The Federation has replaced a part of her with the armor of its underlings. Remade part of her in the image of their disposable pawns.

She clenches her new metal fist and vows to use it against them.

 


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her palace is now a prison. She misses her true home in the country, and determines she must regain control of the planet before there is nowhere left to call home.

In the few short months that she reigned as the independent sovereign of her planet, her handmaidens attempted to make the palace feel like a home. At the time, one of Padmé’s most personal concerns had been that they might never succeed. Such worries are worse than trivial, now that Naboo is under occupation. 

And besides, now her elaborate surroundings are unquestionably an ornate prison. When she was queen she had the freedom to go where she wished, even when not on official business—not that she would neglect her duties. As the Imperator, however, her guards are not subject to her commands; they control where and when she travels.

She finds it strange, she realizes when she intellectually considers the situation. Though she is still a servant, it is in a different way than she had always intended—for oppression, not justice. Her heart continually tells her that her attempts at subterfuge are inadequate, and it remains overall unfathomable to her that a leader would choose not to wield power responsibly. If she is being honest with herself—and she cannot afford self-deception any longer—it frightens her. The occupation has opened her eyes to how fragile their planet, their society, _everything_ is, and she wonders if her beloved planet has suffered so deeply that its wounds are unrepairable. 

_No. We have recovered before,_ she thinks, touching the red paint on her lips that memorializes a previous time of suffering. _We will again._

She once had another home, far from here, that she still longs for in rare unguarded moments. Varykino, in the Lake Country, where her family spent summers. She can only imagine what it is like there now, with the droid armies spread out over the planet. She is able to remain in her chambers in the palace, comfortable, if on edge. What must life under the Trade Federation be like for those who do not have her privilege? What she witnessed at Ferentina can only have been a glimpse.

Padmé tries to imagine the horror in those homes, though an ache reminds her she cannot even be certain there are homes left. But Naboo is the home of her people, and that home has been invaded. 

She knows what she must do, but not if she has the strength to do it.

In the grand scheme of the universe, of the Force, she is a mere girl of fourteen. But that will not stop her from ousting the Federation. Buildings can crumble. Reigns can be terminated. But, she reminds herself, home does not have to be any of those things. For her, it is simple: her handmaidens, who are her family and allies, and those she is sworn to protect.

She flexes her white, metal arm and makes a fist, vowing to demolish and rebuild on even stronger foundations.


	5. Environment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Padmé is escorted from the capital to a ship that will take her to testify to the Galactic Senate, she sees that her beloved planet is slowly losing its life, and puts into motion what may be the only option she's got.

When Padmé Amidala is permitted once more to venture forth from her gilded prison, heading to a secured landing platform to be taken to the Galactic Senate, she is stunned into silence at the changes that have been wrought on her planet under the reign of the Trade Federation. Brown has leeched into the verdant plains and forests, the waterways are muddied, and the planet, frankly, looks sick. She knew that the Federation had been exporting resources from Naboo, but not in this magnitude. They have devoured her world, she realizes as she walks, surrounded on all sides by battle droids. Her handmaidens walk between her and them, a slight but comforting barrier, but they cannot  keep her from burning the reality of Naboo’s situation into her mind.

She feels something inside her snap, but ensures her expression remains inscrutable as always, even without the white face paint she used to rely on to obscure her emotions. She cannot allow the shadow incarnate, the man in black and red who is leading the excursion to Coruscant on behalf of the Federation, to guess that she harbors ulterior motives and is revising a plan as they travel across the wasteland of her planet. She corrals her anger and uses it for fuel. 

From the corner of her eye, she catches Sabé gazing at her, a question unspoken on her lips, and they communicate without words. Of all her handmaidens, Sabé is the one who best recognizes when she has made a decision. She nods and in an instant, it is as if the exchange never occurred at all. Only now, two minds are at work, read to implement the plans they have constructed, to be joined by more in stolen conversations and the small hours of the night.

Perhaps she has waited too long, she fears, as they pass through the desolate landscape. The fact remains, though, that she is kept under near constant guard, her movements reported on. The Federation has become more cautious since Ferentina and, truth be told, this trip to Coruscant is the best—and possibly only—opportunity she and her handmaidens will have to break free and _fight._

It doesn’t lessen her regret at not having attempted earlier, but she hears Sabé’s voice in her head, telling her she needed to live. So the planet can live, even if it appears to be dying.

More than her dismay at the land’s appearance, she is shocked by how different it _feels_ , how she relates to it now. When the planet was green and vibrant and full of life, Padmé herself felt energized, ready to move heaven and earth to uphold her commitment to her ideals. This barren, eroded landscape she faces explains her fatigue the last few months. Of course she understands that as a people they are ultimately dependent on what the land can provide them—but for some reason, she has never before _truly_ comprehended that the planet relies on them, too.

As Padmé walks up the ramp to enter the ship, her back straightens, her resolve strengthened anew. She will plead a case before the Senate, yes, but not for the Trade Federation. It will be, as every tiny sabotage has been, for Naboo.

But in the environment of that great arena of the Senate, she will need to speak bigger, act bigger, she thinks, strapping herself in for takeoff and soon the jump to hyperspace. Her handmaidens follow suit, and once they are all safely contained in their seats, the man in black and red seals the door, sequestering them from the rest of the ship for the journey. As soon as enough time has passed that he is out of hearing range, Padmé and her handmaidens begin to refine her speech, her plan. They hardly notice the ship leave the ground, carrying them away from the planet.

They may have left Naboo far behind in space, but they are in their element.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's Darth Maul! Sidious isn't in this though. Probably. (Also no editing, we die like men. So if there are errors, y'know, I guess you can point them out.)


	6. Senate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé speaks to the Senate, not on behalf of the Trade Federation, but of Naboo. And then she and her handmaidens escape their shadow to head home for the fight ahead.

Padmé enters the building on Coruscant in which the Galactic Senate meets, wearing her most imposing regnal costume. It makes her larger than life, obscures the fact that she is a slight girl. Her headpiece reminds her of horns, her gown and robe are a bright red warning. The color bestows on her a modicum of courage. 

She hopes that, once the proceedings begin and she is able to speak Naboo’s truth, the senators will act on her planet’s behalf, but that hope is a fire dwindling into ashes. She is not confident that they will care for one planet in such a vast republic, not when they stand to gain from the Federation’s occupation. 

She has no choice but to try. She is almost grateful, in a way, she does not have to rely on them to intervene.

The black-and-red agent of the Federation—Padmé has still not yet learned his identity—follows behind her coterie of handmaidens as they are led by senatorial guards to the Naboo platform.

The door slides open and she sees that it is empty. There is no longer a senator from her planet. 

The implications of the woman’s absence is terrifying. The Galactic Senate has seen Naboo’s autonomy disappearing before their very eyes and done nothing. 

Sabé places a restraining hand on her arm, and Padmé swallows her outrage. She and her handmaidens have a plan. For the greatest chances of success, she must follow it.

Padmé and her handmaidens are herded onto the platform, and the door whooshes shut behind them, sealing them in. The other girls fan themselves out behind her, forming a protective shield. As always, they are prepared to protect her from the threats she cannot see.

She goes into a focused trace as she hears her full title announced to the cavernous chamber. This is her time, time to show the trust her people placed in her with her election is deserved. An ethereal calm settles around her like a mantle, another cloak, and her mind doesn’t race, tracing over the speech she has prepared. Instead she observes, at peace, as the assembly is called to order, voices blending together like the susurrus of flowing water.

“Thank you, honorable representatives of the Republic. As you know, several months ago, the Trade Federation invaded my home planet of Naboo. In the time since, I have spent every waking moment fighting to protect my people from their exploitation. I was brought here today by the Federation to prove to you that my planet has accepted its position as one of their holdings.”

Her voice does not shake.

This is what she was born to do.

“I refuse to do this. I have cooperated with the Federation in order to sabotage them, but I will do it no longer. The Nabooian resistance has grown, is strong, and is prepared at last to fight in order to regain our planet’s independence. I see that Naboo no longer warrants representation. I see that you have not deemed it appropriate to step in and uphold democracy. Debate the veracity of our situation, whether or not we deserve the aid of the Galactic Republic’s resources. We will take care of ourselves. And when you choose to acknowledge our plight and join in our battle for liberty, you will be welcome.”

The entire chamber’s crescendoing buzz explodes into an uproar upon her final word, and it rings hollowly in her ears. Padmé is lightyears away, her mind back on Naboo. Then Sabé lays a hand on her once again, this time on her shoulder in a reassuring but urgent gesture, and she returns to the present. 

They have to flee, and they have less than a minute.

Sabé pilots the platform, steering it to the floor of the chamber. The handmaidens leap out, slim blasters flashing in the dim light, and Padmé pauses a moment to throw off her heavy robe and cast her headdress to the ground. Without them, she doesn’t look much different from the others. In the confusion, the blue-robed guards will not notice her facepaint, or that there is one more handmaiden than before. She leaps out, drawing her own blaster. Rabé and Eirtaé have already disabled the guards blocking the door that leads to the rest of the building. 

Her heart plummets when she sees a figure on the other side, but her eyes quickly catch up to who stands there—Saché. Padmé breathes in relief and nods in acknowledgement. The group closes ranks and dashes through the hallways. 

They navigate their way out of the senate building without difficulty. Those they meet in the corridors jump aside, flattening themselves against the walls in an effort to stay out of their way.

It makes Padmé feel more powerful than she has in months. Reminds her she is someone to be feared. Especially when she has nothing to lose. 

Her new veneer of invincibility falters as they wind through the labyrinthine halls. Unable to shake the sense that they are being followed, she glances back at every corner they turn until they exit the building. Once or twice, she sees a flutter of black, and her mind propels into hyperdrive, convinced that the Federation’s shadowy agent is allowing them to leave Coruscant. She’s seen him at work; he could stop their efforts before they can truly begin. 

_He’s toying with us_ , Padmé realizes as Yané lowers the ramp to their ship and they run onboard. The ship takes off, the hatch closing before they’re inside the passenger compartment.  _He knows he’ll have another chance._

But as they leave the shimmering planet’s atmosphere, the fear sloughs away, left behind on Coruscant. The first phase of their plan is complete. Their message is out there for those who will hear. As she and her handmaidens peel into space, she feels not discouraged, but free.


	7. Regalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their return to Naboo, Padmé and her handmaidens dress in bits and pieces of her clothing, becoming a collection of queenly decoys.

Padmé and her handmaidens have a limited amount of time to discuss what their next move should be before they arrive on Naboo. She is certain that when they land, they will all be taken into the custody of the Trade Federation. She expects to assume the brunt of their displeasure—an Imperator has never spoken out against them so forcefully before, so blatantly declared her intent to rebel—unless they can avoid capture.

It is this exact type of situation for which the handmaidens serve, but even so, Padmé is reluctant to ask them to risk their lives. 

As it turns out, she does not even need to ask. She should have known they would take the decision upon themselves.

She enters the miniature, sterile audience chamber, and is surprised to see that—aside from Eirtaé, who is piloting the ship—all of her handmaidens are there. All of her friends. Waiting for her to speak. 

Padmé spreads her hands, but finds that she cannot make the request. And so it is Sabé who speaks up in her stead, as she has before.

“I have a plan, if you are willing to hear me out, Your Highness,” she says, as more of a formality than anything else. More than once have the two of them operated as if of one mind; whatever plan Sabé has concocted will mirror what her own thoughts would have been. 

She nods and Sabé continues: “Eirtaé is contacting members of the Nabooian resistance as we approach. Our communication channels are secure—thanks to the Federation’s insistence, it would take either a master hacker or a Jedi to intercept our messages. The resistance will direct us to the camp nearest to Theed, where we’ll join the fight.”

“An excellent plan,” Padmé says. “Then I suppose we should dress for battle.”

The handmaidens exchange a glance. “That is also part of the plan,” Sabé says before she can become too nervous. She knows how Padmé hates putting them in danger for her own safety. “If ever there was a time for decoys, it is now.”

She hates to admit it, but her friend is right. And then—

“Decoys?” More than one of them? 

“Imagine the frenzy,” says Rabé, a hard edge of glee to her voice. “Droids and soldiers chasing phantom queens around the city, around the _planet_. Unable to tell which of us is truly Amidala.”

Causing maximum chaos is not quite the strategy that Padmé would have chosen, but their options are limited, and she believes that Rabé knows what she’s doing. She would not have offered up this idea if she suspected a chance of failure. 

And this suggestion is why, on the eve of what could be her last chance to free Naboo, Padmé and all her handmaidens stand surrounded by soft piles of cloth in myriad colors, choosing their disguises. Though it is not frivolous—there is a purpose to their donning of various pieces of regalia—for a moment she is reminded of more peaceful nights spent with them, precious hours where they could be the girls they were. Nights where they traded clothing much like this, without the same consequences.

She doesn’t allow herself to dream of having that again. One dream at a time, she tells herself as she closes her eyes to let Sabé paint her face. She feels the brush trace her lips, covering the top and dividing the bottom with red. This is their own Time of Suffering, she thinks. Should her people survive, will they also remember this in the centuries to come? 

When she opens her eyes again, taking a shallow breath to ground herself, she sees a room of doubles. Each of the handmaidens has chosen a different headdress and piece of clothing in which she can move, and has modified it if not. Padmé surveys the room and sees not only her past, but beacons of hope for Naboo’s future. She drapes the cloak she wore in the Senate over her shoulders, needing to feel that strength again, and goes to the cockpit—ostensibly to relieve Eirtaé of duty.

But what she wants is to be alone when they exit hyperspace and her planet comes into view. It will be just Padmé and Naboo, a blue and green jewel hanging in the void of space. 

The only jewel she’d give her life to keep.


	8. Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most difficult part of resistance is trust.

Rumors of the Naboo queen have spread from Theed, slowly making their way to even remote corners of the planet.

Or, perhaps Padmé should say, rumors of the Naboo queens. For that is how both the resistance and the Federation refer to her and her handmaidens. Each of them heads off on a different mission daily, darting around the capital. They serve as distractions and diversions for one another. Rabé was right—an entire squad of Amidalas running free and wreaking havoc on their systems and troops is more than the Trade Federation’s psyche can handle. 

It took a while for them to catch on to the fact that she— _they_ —were not ghosts and visions, to realize that the queen could not in fact be everywhere at once. 

This is one of the few but steadily increasing number of things that puts a smile on Padmé’s face. Among the others is they progress they’ve made in the days since they returned to the planet: Federation forces have been driven back in several large swathes, some in locations where Padmé had at first despaired of recovering ground. Her fellow fighters’ spirits are not flagging. They have a chance. 

At night—that is, the nights when she is not out on a raid or, as she prefers, gathering intelligence—Padmé and those leaders of the rebellion that have been here since the beginning lay down the groundwork for the end. Through all of these midnight conferences, her body is exhausted but her mind is sharp. It has to be—she needs to see every possible outcome, which path will lead to the most success with the least amount of damage.

Sabé reminds her at least once a day that this is impossible, that events will take unexpected turns and that she can’t control everything. So Padmé settles for controlling everything that she _can_ until it’s out of her hands entirely. Perhaps once upon a time, when she was younger, she might have seized this in the wrong way, insisting on participating in every mission and the like, overseeing each step of their continued attacks.

Trusting that the people she leads now, in battle and at rest, are precisely where they need to be, is what will get them through this fight. And trusting in their strengths is what will lead them to victory.


	9. Triumph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how liberty lives

_Something illuminated red hums past her ear, and Padmé jumps, firing as she does. Her target has already stepped to the side, as calmly as if he were dodging a much more minor annoyance than a shot from a blaster._

_And then the black-and-red demon lunges, swiping with his saber, and her last thought is of—_

Padmé lurches back into consciousness with a gasp. She only vaguely recognizes her surroundings as part of the palace; the rest of her mind is fixated on her dream. Her nightmare, rather. 

She tries to sit up—the more active she is, the further into memory it will fade—and as she tries to push with her mechanical left arm, she notes belatedly that it is gone. 

Refusing to panic, she stills every part of herself: her mind, her breathing—the two culprits that would send her spiraling. Then, slowly, she takes in sensations: the texture of the sheets she rests on, light chatter outside the door, her heart reducing its frenetic pace. Padmé is certain there’s an explanation for this and, coupled with the fact that she is not holed up in a detention center somewhere, she dares to consider that maybe things went right.

That is before Sabé enters, clearly on the edge of tears, beginning Padmé’s cycle of anxiety all over again. She almost hesitates to ask, then steels her nerve. “What happened?”

Sabé sits at her bedside and reaches out to help Padmé as she struggles to sit up. The room tilts sideways. 

Her mind dredges up, for the briefest of moments, a memory of her being thrown across the room by the flick of a wrist.

“They’re retreating,” her handmaiden says, and throws her head back to compose her expression. When she looks down again, she is still crying, but now Padmé can see that they’re tears of relief. Joy. It’s almost palpable, and though she is sure they still have a long way to go before Naboo is liberated, Padmé thinks that this might be the most perfect moment that has ever passed.

No, now it is, she corrects herself as the rest of the handmaidens file into what is undoubtedly part of the infirmary. She’s surrounded by the people who made it possible, she thinks, and flushes with warmth and gratitude and _love_ —

But then she puts her feelings on hold one last time, because in Padmé’s mind, it will never really be over until she knows how it was accomplished. “But Theed, the palace—the last we heard, it was completely overrun with troops and droideka and the odds were—”

_—The odds of her getting out of this confrontation alive were astronomical—_

“Unbalanced,” she says.

Saché grins fiercely. “We are brave, Your Highness.”

It’s an unexpected moment of levity, and a pithy way to sum up what must have been a harrowing operation _—why can’t she remember?—_ but she appreciates the intent behind it. They were simply carrying out their mission. Still, she wants to be briefed on everything that happened.

And they try. They fill her in on every maneuver, every blaster strike that hit its mark, voices stumbling over each other in their excitement to build an accurate timeline, all the way up until the point where the Trade Federation representatives were rounded up in the throne room and made to surrender. 

Not once do they mention how it is that she was able to survive an encounter with a skilled user of a double-bladed lightsaber. She sifts through her memory and comes up empty. Aside from the flashes she’s gotten, the battle is a blank space in her mind. 

The concept comforts and terrifies her in equal measure. She escaped with her life—but at what cost? She will remember, eventually—but what toll will the remembering take?

It’s something personal to be put aside. Just until Naboo regains its footing. 

Because her planet _will_ recover. Her people are resilient, and—as Saché said—they are brave. Brave enough to transform the ruins of violence. Brave enough to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me, my gift is to you, and it's the end of this story! 
> 
> I wrote myself into a bit of a corner with that final battle there (namely because I hate writing battles, and I wasn't sure if there was a way Padmé could have prevailed against Darth Maul), so it's a very LOTR-reunion-type-thing. How she did it is up to interpretation, but I'm guessing it was probably the Force. 
> 
> Because the Force know how important Padmé is.


End file.
